


Mouthwatering

by LaughableLament



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Come as Lube, Community: spn-kinkmeme, Consensual Somnophilia, Don't copy to another site, Facials, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26402083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament
Summary: Dean Winchester’s Sexual Bucket List, Item One: Wake up to a blow job.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 111
Collections: Supernatural Kink Meme





	Mouthwatering

**Author's Note:**

> Love beyond measure to [Nisaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nisaki), who believed in this when it was pages of crazy. 😙
> 
> [Prompt on SPN Kink Meme](https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/164787.html?thread=48098739#t48098739), September 2020!

Sam knows what’s coming.

Dean yawns, loudly. Knuckles at the corners of his eyes. Shakes his head: loose cheeks, motorboat mouth. He can get by on four hours’ sleep plus car naps for about ten nights running.

“Dean, pull over.” 

They’ve been tracking this nomad vamp crew, going on two weeks now.

“Can’t, man. We’re so close.” Dean squints, blinks a few times.

“And the shape you’re in, we’ll be lunch.” Sam’s been waiting for a day like this.

“Sam—”

“We’ve been a day behind ever since we started. We need a new tack. I say we get a good night’s sleep, a big breakfast, then figure out where they’re _gonna_ be.”

“Head ’em off at the pass, huh?” Dean tries, and fails, to stifle another yawn.

Sam sticks the knife in. “I’d rather have you a hundred percent, watching my back against bloodsuckers; that’s all.”

Dean eyes him. Knows he’s been outflanked, but he lets Sam know he knows. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Sam conjures his most worshipful little-brother gaze.

“You’re playin’ me,” Dean grumbles. “I dunno how yet, but I’m watchin’ you.”

 _Yeah, but you won’t be_. Dean’ll be out cold—eight, maybe ten hours—once Sam gets him in a bed.

Sam turns to the window. Picks his lips to hide his smug smile. 

**

Months ago: 

“I got an idea.” Dean poured more shots, passed Sam one. “Sexual bucket list. Go.”

They tapped their glasses on the big map, clinked, and drained them.

Sam winced. “I… don’t have one.”

“Bullshit.”

“Soulless.”

“Ah, son of a bitch. Of course.” Dean rolled his eyes, poured _more_ shots—

“No,” Sam said.

“One more.”

Sam caved. Tapped the table, toasted, drank. “This is all just pretext to tell me yours anyway, so…” He flicked his fingers, urged Dean on.

“I…” Dean gestured dramatically, “would like to be woken up with a blow job. I’d like to spit-roast a girl between us. I wanna put a sex swing in one of these empty rooms. Oh! And I wanna see how many times I can make you come…”

Sam poured the next round. He was gonna need it.

**

To his credit, Dean stays upright through his shower and a take-out dinner. Deep hollows bruise his eyes. Staggering steps, at last, to bed. Sam climbs in with him.

“It’s like… eight o’clock at night, dude. Watch a movie or something, you don’t…” Dean trails off as Sam roots close. 

“Good night, Dean.” Hand on his brother’s chest.

Dean’s snores, finally, sing Sam to sleep.

**

“So-uh…” Sam turned down the radio. Stark, gnarled branches of a winter forest cast criss-crossed shadows on the road ahead. “That bucket list thing.”

“Yeah?” Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. Stretched an arm across the seat and scratched at Sam’s neck. 

“You’d be, you know, cool with it?” Sam’s fingers flexed. “If I… went down on you while you slept?”

“Cool with—” Dean shook his head. “Sam, do you know what _bucket list_ means?” 

“I was just checking!” Sam fidgeted with the collar of his flannel shirt. “I mean, you won’t get a say. What if you’re not in the mood that day? Or—”

“Dude, if I wake up with my dick in your mouth, I’ll _be_ in the mood. Guarantee.”

Sam chuckled.

“So-uh… When are we gonna do this?” Dean leered, eyes barely on the highway.

“That’s the part you don’t get a say in,” Sam said. 

“All right.” Dean grinned, gunned the motor. “Let’s see what you got, little brother.”

**

Sam kills his alarm at 3:44 a.m. No sense to let it sound; he’s already awake—wired, even. Dean snores softly in the bed, covers half off. One leg hooks over the blankets, one naked asscheek shows. Too tired to screw around last night, obviously, but they liked sleeping skin-to-skin anyway.

He peels the covers from his brother’s sleeping form. Dean’s back shimmers; sweat sheen highlights the peaks and valleys, points of his shoulder blades, groove of his spine. Not enough light to see the freckles peppered on his skin, but Sam knows them like the constellations—down to which ones only appear in the summer. 

Mouthwatering. Sam almost starts in on Dean just like this. Slips between his knees to lick his thighs. He doesn’t want Dean alert too soon though, so he tugs Dean’s shoulder. Eases him over.

“Sammy?” Muttered.

“Shh, go back to sleep.”

Dean smacks his tongue and scrunches up his nose. Breathing evens out. 

Sam eases. Ten more minutes, Dean would’ve snatched Sam’s wrist, flip-pinned him and smashed Sam’s plan to pieces. Sam’s cut it close, on purpose. He wants Dean to come to, _in medias res_ , to wake up, maybe face-fuck him a little. 

Now he licks Dean’s thighs. Slowly spreads Dean’s knees while he kisses between. Dean hums; Sam freezes. Looks up the plane of Dean’s abs and chest, reads Dean’s breath. 

Still sleeping. 

Sam lifts Dean’s knee over his shoulder, makes room, noses his root. Mouths Dean’s balls. Coarse hair prickles his tongue. Power. Scintillating and strange, maneuvering Dean like this. Sam’s dick twitches with his pulse. He sucks sideways, tongues Dean’s underside, tracing the veins and savoring. Dean shifts, stiffens between Sam’s lips. 

Reflex thrust meets him when he seals around Dean’s head. Sam swirls. Licks and tickles, tastes the salt-sharp leaking from the slit. Dean rumbles, stutter-inhales as his body comes online. Dean twists, fights to consciousness—

“Sammy?” 

—and blows down Sam’s throat. Sam pulls off, takes a shot in his open mouth and one across his face. Dean bellows, fires again, and soaks Sam’s chin when Sam looks up, streaked with his spunk. Sam licks off his lips. Dean hauls Sam up and kisses him, takes a faceful of his own jizz. Eats his taste out of Sam’s mouth. Moaning.

Sam grinds, rubs in the mess while Dean collects come on a finger. 

“Jerk off for me, little brother; give it to me.” And he pushes in Sam’s ass, slick-sticky, stinging.

Sam erupts yelling Dean’s name. Fist so fast he can barely see it. Dean moves in him. Plays with his nipples. Talks filthy. Sam slumps on Dean’s chest. Sweat-drenched. Dean cradles him behind the head and rocks him.

“Sammy, that was awesome.” Like a prayer.

Sam sits up on his knees. Dean beams, his own personal Christmas. Blush-heat climbs Sam’s neck. “Was it like you pictured?” he asks.

“You kiddin’ me?” Dean says, “It was better! I was dreaming about—” his teeth click shut. “You know what? I was dreaming. Let’s just…” Zipped lips.

“That’s…” Sam laughs. “Thank you. For that.”

Dean captures Sam’s hands, laces their fingers. “Nah, man.” Thumbs skate back and forth. “Thank you.”

Sam folds, bumps their foreheads. Dean cranes, kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posts on [tumblr](https://laughablelament.tumblr.com/post/628990228687962112/mouthwatering-established-wincest-consensual) and [spnkink-meme](https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/164787.html?thread=48098739#t48098739).


End file.
